


Goldschaum

by Ariette (Capriccioso)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Familiar Castiel, Familiar Gabriel (Supernatural), M/M, Slow Burn, Witch Dean Winchester, Witch Sam Winchester, Witches, needs more tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-28 16:27:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16245467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capriccioso/pseuds/Ariette
Summary: The Winchesters are just another Hunter family - a group of white witches criss-crossing the United States, saving people, hunting things.It's on Sam's 18th birthday, when he finally gets his familiar, the soul-bonded he's been craving for so long, that things start to go wrong.





	1. Katzengold

**Author's Note:**

> okay you know by now how bad i am at actually finishing my stuff, but i thought i'd post this anyway because the AU just isn't letting me go.
> 
> also if someone wants to beta for me that would be so exceptionally lovely my tenses are all over the place in this

Sam forces his breaths to come evenly, but inside he’s hyperventilating.

This is it, the day his whole life will change forever. He’d barely slept for a week leading up to his 18th birthday, skimming over the pages of the same books he’d read years ago over and over again.

_A familiar is a deathless creature from beyond the veil, taking a shape representative of the casters’ soul. The final bond cannot be broken._

No pressure, right? For a moment, Sam’s thoughts wander from the circle he’s drawing in his own blood to his father’s gruff German Shepherd, his brother’s blue-eyed raven. Mary, his mother, had had a Golden Retriever, the kind Sam had always wished for.

Alright, enough of that, he doesn’t want to fudge the incantation. Dean is waiting by the car, just ten minutes away from the little forest clearing Sam is in. He’s close, Sam tries to tell himself. _Not close enough to help if your soul produces a monster_ , the traitorous voice inside him whispers, but Sam stamps it down hard. He doesn’t need this right now.

Sam has always felt that he might not be quite ... right, that he couldn’t slot as easily into the role of a white witch hunting down supernatural criminals all across the US, living out of trunks and motel rooms, as his family did because there was something he lacked. He’d thought that just meant he was meant for a more mundane life, but, well ... what happened at that High School ... to Jess ...

He sucks in a sharp breath, pressing the guilt down, way, way down. He’s good at this - just running away from the pain. He meditates for another twenty minutes, his mind quiet now, until he risks saying the words of the spell that will call forth a creature to mirror his soul.

He’s thrust into Hell.

Pain and the smell of burning flesh surround him, _Say yes_ , a voice rasps, claws wrapped around his throat, pressing down, down, down, and this is how he dies, Sam thinks, but then ...

Then there is light and - and a confusing mess of shapes, cotton candy soaked in blood, sigils and snakes and - his brain can’t parse the images, just the light, white and blinding. _Choose_ , a voice says, it burns in his throat like the whiskey he snuck from John when he was fifteen. 

The picture swims, ash choking his lungs again, Sam can feel the claws of the monster digging into his flesh again and - no, no he can’t, he won’t. He grasps onto the light, onto the whiskey burn even as it singes his hands; he swears he hears a chuckle before the pain sets in and he screams.

“-m! Sammy!”

Someone is shaking him. His brain feels like it’s liquefied, but he forces himself to open his eyes anyway. It takes several blinks for the world to return to semi-focus; he has a splitting headache.

Dean. The person whose lap he’s sprawled in is Dean. Why is he here, in a forest? Oh, right, the ritual. Memories of pain and fire and whiskey assault him, and Sam closes his eyes again, groaning.

“Don’t make me get the smelling salts, Samantha,” Dean threatens.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I messed this up,” Sam groans.

“What d’you mean, messed up? I mean, yeah, sure, could’ve done without the screaming and the fainting but ...,”

Sam was already half sitting up before Dean got through his sentence. He’d thought - none of his books ever said anything about having to _choose_ , he thought he’d fucked this up somehow but -

It felt like an eternity to him until he finally laid eyes on the summoning circle he’d drawn earlier. It wasn’t empty anymore. Within sat a cream-coloured cat, all rich browns and golds - _Siamese_ , his brain helpfully supplied - licking it’s paw as if the proceedings didn’t have anything to do with it.

Sam swallowed. He’d always wanted a dog, but he supposed it made sense for it to be a cat, considering his own independence. At least it wasn’t whatever slavering Hell beast it could have been. He needed to ask Dean about whatever happened there later; for now, there was his familiar.

“Hi,” he said, breathless.

The cat’s ear flicked lazily, but it didn’t react otherwise. The telepathic bond wouldn’t set in until they touched, so Sam inched closer to the circle, on his knees, not wanting to tower over his kitty.

Dean held himself in the background as best he could; he wasn’t technically supposed to be here, after all, he’d just come running against his own familiars advice when he heard Sammy scream bloody murder.

Carefully Sam offered his open palm to the cat, held his hand right into the circle where it could reach. Technically, his familiar could still reject him. It didn’t happen, usually, but then, you weren’t supposed to choose either, so with Sam’s luck ...

The cat sniffed at his fingers, then playfully batted his palm with it’s paw.

The moment they touched, fireworks exploded behind Sam’s eyes, a painful, blinding light that seared his insides with cold heat - he was vaguely aware that he was screaming again - then it settled into a hot burn at the back of his mind.

 _Heya, kiddo,_ an amused voice said in his head right before Sam passed out again.

The next time he woke up, he was back in the motel room he’d gotten with Dean yesterday night. For a moment, Sam thought he’d dreamt all of it and his familiar ceremony hadn’t even happened yet, before his eyes settled onto the creamy cat rolling around on Dean’s bed, messing up the covers.

He shivered at the memory of the darkness - he’d always known there was something wrong with him, but that - before he could finish the thought it was drowned in amber warmth just this side of not-pain.

 _Morning, Gigantor,_ said a voice in his mind. Sam took a moment to study it this time. Male, playful, warm.

“Sam. My name is Sam,” he said, throat still raspy from the screaming. He hadn’t been there when Dean had this familiar ceremony; John had deemed him too young, but he didn’t think Dean had screamed this much.

 _Whatever, Samsquatch. I’m Gabriel, the flawless, and you should be thanking me on hands and knees right about now._ The cat - Gabriel - rolled up neatly, looking for all the world like he hadn’t just messed up Dean’s bed with cat hair and tomfoolery.

Sam’s head hurt. He got up, stumbled into the bathroom and splashed some cold water in his face. He didn’t know how long he stood there, just staring at his own reflection, but it was long enough for Dean to return; he heard his brother yell at Gabriel and smiled involuntarily.

He decided he needed a shower after all that rolling around on the forest floor; it didn’t take him long to discovered the red, slightly raised burn on his hip. It was the shape of a cat paw. He touched it softly, reverently. It hummed with warmth. 

About half an hour later he got out of the shower, feeling more like himself despite the ever-present warmth at the back of his mind. Sam wrapped a towel around his waist, having forgotten to bring clothes to change into, and returned to the room.

Dean was sitting at the table, cleaning his gun, map and research books spread out in front of him, the raven, Cas, Dean’s familiar, perched on his shoulder. His muddy shoulder - Dean looks like he’d lost a fistfight with a landslide.

“Finally, Samantha. Did your Queenliness really need to use up all the hot water?,” Dean grumbles.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “What’s with -,” he indicated the entirety of Dean who was scowling and dripping mud on the hideous motel carpet.

“’s not a case, don’t worry,” Dean grunted and got up to head for the bathroom. “We have to meet Dad tomorrow at Bobby’s though,” he added.

Sam made a face; it was almost a seven hour drive from here to Sioux Falls. He watched as Dean grabbed himself some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, Cas still on his shoulder. It made him blush; even if familiars were in the shape of animals, they were still people; that was still another guy his brother was getting naked in front of.

Speaking of people - the bond at the back of Sam’s mind gave a contended vibration, almost a purr, when the Siamese looked up from where he was cuddled into Sam’s pillow and let his eyes rake over Sam’s half-naked form.

Blushing, Sam grabbed his clothes and put them on hastily with his back turned to his familiar; he was rewarded with a warm twang to the bond that felt like a chuckle.

After he was dressed, it took him a few more deep breaths to calm down enough turn around again. He studied Gabriel for a bit. He looked invitingly soft with a fluffy, dark tail and almost too symmetrical dark socks on all four paws. The rest of his fur was cookies-and-cream mixed with flecks of gold. He seemed small even for a cat.

Gabriel, sensing the scrutiny, looked up at him, golden eyes breathtakingly striking in the dark mask pattern around his face.

“Hi,” Sam said again for lack of better words.

Amusement flooded the bond, _Hi,_ Gabriel purred. _What’s a kitty gotta do around here to escape this crushing boredom?_

Sam frowned. “I don’t think Dean would like us going somewhere, we have to drive early tomorrow and -,” he cut off at the disapproval he felt scratching at his thoughts. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it made it hard to concentrate on anything.

“Cut that out,” he growled.

 _Ohh, that’s hot, big boy,_ Gabriel laughed and Sam instantly blushed crimson. _Now come on, don’t tell me you always do what your brother says. If you were that boring it’d be cosmically impossible for me to be your familiar._

“Yeah ... about that ... what - what exactly happened there?,” Sam asked, sitting down on the chair that Dean hadn’t covered in mud.

Gabriel sat up, paws neatly folded now, and studied Sam for a bit. The bond felt oddly cold and withdrawn, so Sam prodded at it with his mind, tried to send emotion across it the way Gabriel did so effortlessly. He didn’t think it worked, but at least it seemed to amuse the familiar, because the warmth returned threefold.

 _Well, I was bored. Luce already picked you but it’s not like I’m into rules anyway, so I thought ‘why not throw in my bid?’,_ Gabriel made a gesture that was about as close as a cat could come to shrugging.

“Wait, someone picked me? Doesn’t - isn’t it like, a soul-based assignment?”

_In a way. We sense your soul when you cast the incantation and if one of us is into it, they claim you. It’s all very civilized._

“And - and you said ... Luce?”

Gabriel’s little cat face scrunched up. _Yeah, my brother. Big bag of dicks, that one._

Sam shivered at the memory of the heat and the pain and the fire. “Thank you,” he said, earnestly. “For picking me.”

The bond was still for a moment and when Gabriel spoke next it came without the tinge of emotion that usually accompanied everything he said. _Y’know I was just bored, right? We’re vaguely similar enough for me to claim you but we’re not - I’m not really **for** you._

Sam made a face. “And your brother the bag of dicks is?”

 _Yeah. He’s been saying you were his since before you were born. A match made in Hell and all that. I’m just borrowing you. Because I was bored._ The bond was still curiously emotionless. _He’ll come back for you, you know? Without the second bond he can just snatch you back, and I won’t fight it._ Now the thoughts perked back up again, overflowing with memories just beyond Sam’s grasp, _I haven’t been on earth in ages, I bet you’ve got so many new delicacies now!_

Sam couldn’t breathe. Barely anybody in the history of witchcraft had made the second bond with a familiar - a human binding himself to an ageless being is all well and good, but a supernova of timeless power binding themselves to a human soul? Preposterous. Besides, Gabriel had already said he wouldn’t even fight. This Luce would come back for him and - and. Sam closed his eyes and the images flashed back into focus - the stench of burning meat, the claws around his throat, the despair and the pain and the -

Whiskey-burn warmth flooded his mind before he could grasp the rest of his memories.

Gabriel didn’t say anything when Sam curled up under the covers of his bed and Sam would have felt gratitude if he’d allowed himself to feel anything at all. When he slept, he dreamt of golden snakes wrapped around his body like a warm, scaly hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katzengold (German): fool's gold, literally: cat's gold


	2. Goldröschen

They got up early the next morning and packed their things. Every attempt Dean made at conversation was shut down by Gabriel, who’d taken to batting things off of tables and hissing loudly at Cas who could barely settle down for a minute without being hunted like prey by the Siamese.

Sam for his part didn’t mind not being spoken to, his mind was still a mess. Gabriel didn’t say anything to him, but the warmth of the bond was even more pronounced than yesterday.

Two hours later they stopped at a diner for breakfast and Dean locked Gabriel in the car while they went inside. Sam did feel bad about that, but it wasn’t like cats were allowed inside anyway, and while nobody would wonder about a raven flying about, a stray cat that beautiful was bound to attract attention. 

Sam ordered something with bacon and wrapped half the strips into a napkin to take back to Gabriel and was subsequently left poking thoughtfully at his eggs. After this summer, he was going to Stanford. He hadn’t told Dean or John yet, but maybe Luce would be good for that? He had felt strong, independent. And it wasn’t like Gabriel was all sunshine and rainbows - he had dark sides. Luce couldn't be any worse, right? Familiars weren't usually malicious, not the way Sam had felt in that vision. Maybe he got it wrong. Maybe he should just demand that Gabriel go back home to wherever familiars lived and get it all over with? How bad could this Luce be if he was _meant_ for Sam?

“Hey, you listening?,” Dean asked, waving a hand in front of Sam’s face.

“Sorry, what?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dad texted, he won’t make it.”

“Oh.” Sam made a face; he hadn’t been looking forward to facing his father with the secret of his full ride to Stanford hovering at the back of his mind, but at the same time he knew this meant that John was off working a case he deemed too dangerous for his boys and it worried him.

“Yeah, oh. Anyway, he wants us to stop off in some place called Crow Agency of all things, check a couple of accidental deaths for monster involvement. Me, I think some dumbasses just fell down a big hole but whatever.”

Sam made a non-committal sound and shovelled egg in his mouth.

“How … uh, how’re ya feeling, Sammy?,” Dean asked, suddenly.

Sam looked up at his brother in disbelief and Dean squirmed under his gaze. “I mean, getting a familiar is a huge deal, and you haven’t even said anything. I’d thought you’d be … more … excited? Geeking out about some weird shit by now?”

Sam chewed his eggs slowly and with great deliberation. Should he tell him? It wasn’t like Dean wouldn’t notice when his familiar changed anyway.

“About that … something weird happened in that ritual. Have you ever heard of … someone having to - to choose? Like, two familiars … fighting over … ?,” Sam trailed off at the sharp look in Dean’s eyes.

“What’s the other guy like?,” he asked.

Sam gaped at his brother. He’d expected ... well, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected but at least some disbelief probably? “Uh … the other guy? Besides Gabriel, you mean?”

Dean nodded impatiently.

“He- he was. Dark. Scary but - powerful,” Sam’s answer came hesitantly, “Gabriel said his name was Luce.”

Dean scrunched his nose, “Well, the kitty seems like a little bitch but I’d say I prefer him over Tall, Dark and Murderous.”

“Gabriel said Luce would come back for me,” Sam said, the words coming in a rush, “That he wouldn’t fight, that he’d just - just let Luce take me back.”

Dean growled. “What a fucking coward.”

Sam looked back down at his eggs; they were barely recognizable as such anymore. He shrugged. “Luce seems like … a lot,” he admitted. He wasn’t sure he'd want to fight a guy like that either.

Dean got up and slapped some money on the table. Before Sam could make to follow, Dean used the height advantage he nowadays only had when his little brother was sitting down to squeeze Sam’s shoulder, “If Luce is that awful we can always …,” he made a casual motion across his throat and walked out.

Sam stared after him. A witch that had broken a first bond with a familiar would lose all their power. He’d be just like Bobby, whose familiar had died years ago - part of the research squad. Wouldn’t that be nice, though?, a traitorous part of his mind whispered. He could go to college, walk away from all of this, if he lost his powers; John would have no use for him in the family business anymore.

Gabriel sent a picture of Dean’s angry face across the bond and it took a moment for Sam to realize that that was because Gabriel had somehow gotten into the glove compartment and strewn fake IDs and documents all over the interior of the Impala. Sam snickered, suddenly feeling lighter.

Crow Agency, Montana, was seven hours in the opposite direction.

Gabriel had taken to bodily draping himself over Sam wherever he sat, so Dean kicked them out of the passenger seat an hour into the trip; Gabriel kept batting at Dean’s hands when he drove or picking fights with Cas who was perched on Dean’s shoulder as usual.

Sam stretched out on the backseat. For his part he had decided that he’d try to forget about the whole familiar debacle; Dean was right, if Luce was a total douchebag he could just cut him out. He was trying to read a book on sirens, but Gabriel wouldn’t let him. He was curled up around Sam’s shoulders, a warm, fuzzy weight, and gave sarcastic comments just about every sentence that Sam read.

On one hand, it was infuriating, on the other hand, he was pretty sure that Gabriel correcting his lore book could only result in a net win of knowledge.

 _Do you think a siren could appear as me? That'd be hot - twincest. Ohh, what about two of you, doubleteaming me? All tall and lanky and floppy-haired._ , 

Sam's cheeks burned and he made a concerted effort not to look at his brother or Cas. Gabriel was only really helpful when he wanted to; if he sensed that he was being appreciated, he'd change it up to very forward flirting instantly.

They hadn’t really talked about Luce all day and Sam was content to leave it at that. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Dean’s reaction in that diner - his brother knew something, and all Sam had to do was wait until Dean was too tired from driving all day to effectively hide it.

Sam got his chance when they stopped for gas, an hour away from Crow Agency. He cornered his brother right outside the bathroom, his new height aiding him in blocking Dean’s path. Cas had stayed in the car for once, deep in telepathic conversation with a bored Gabriel.

“What’s up, Sammy?,” Dean asked, warily.

“You were pretty unsurprised about how my spell went down,” Sam started. He’d assumed he’d have to dig deeper, but Dean capitulated instantly with an awkward shrug.

“It’s not - it doesn’t usually happen but, uh. Cas, he wasn’t my familiar either. The - the one that had picked me or whatever. That was some douche named Michael, but I just - I refused him, y’know? They need you to say yes and -,” Dean dragged a hand through his hair.

“Say yes,” Luce’s voice echoed in Sam’s mind. It was Gabriel that had given him a choice.

“Anyway, I didn’t want Michael, and at some point Cas just … just swooped in and I grabbed on and never looked back,” Dean laughed nervously, “Weird conversation to have outside a gas station toilet, y’know? Coulda waited til we got to the motel, Sam.”

“And Cas never said anything about Michael coming back for you?”

“Okay, definitely the wrong place for this conversation,” Dean announced.

For a second, Sam held his gaze and continued to block the path, but when he saw the iron behind Dean’s eyes, he gave in with a sigh and turned to walk back to the Impala.

The rest of the trip was less quiet; Sam confronting him seemed to have given Dean permission to relax and blast loud classic rock.

Sam stayed in the backseat with a lap full of purring cat. The glittery, silky-soft fur may be a joy to run his hands through, but Sam soon noticed that Gabriel was leaving cat hair everywhere. “Dean will yell at you later,” he said quietly to his relaxed companion.

In reply, Gabriel only flicked his tail lazily. _We should do something more fun,_ he sent through the bond and yawned, revealing sharpened canines far more dangerous than one would expect to see on a normal house cat.

Sam didn't know what to say to that; his life on the road wasn't all that riveting, with exception of some bizarre monster of the week, and he hoped that his time at Stanford would be even more boring. But then again, Gabriel wasn't meant for him, he reminded himself. Luce seemed like the driven, perfectionist type that would thrive as a lawyer, but Sam couldn't shake the feeling of his claws wrapped around his throat.

The distracting warmth flooded him again and Sam regarded Gabriel, who gave him his most innocent kitty face. There was no way it wasn't Gabriel who was keeping the worst of Sam's memories of Luce away, but Sam couldn't decide if it was motivated by kindness or selfishness; after all, if Sam was begging not to be bound to Luce, Gabriel wouldn’t be having any fun any time soon.

Hours later they arrived in Crow Agency, the sky looking dark and foreboding. Dean parked the Impala and was already inside the motel office before Sam had even unwound himself from the pile of cat and books that the backseat had become. By the time he finally got out of the car, Dean had already returned and lobbed a room key at him that Sam only barely caught.

"Separate rooms tonight, Sammy," Dean said roughly.

Sam fixed him with a glare; he didn’t doubt that this was Dean’s way of dodging Sam’s earlier question yet again. Before he could lay into his brother, Dean gave an aborted nod, turned around and strode off again. Unbelieveable.

Sam scowled after him. Gabriel unwound himself from where he lay in the back of the Impala and hopped out, winding in-between Sam’s legs. _Let’s go have some fun,_ he suggested.

He shouldn’t. Wandering off alone is always a bad idea for Hunters. Dean would be mad. Sam slams the door of the Impala closed and walks off toward where he suspects the nearest bar to be, his bond to Gabriel a purring warmth in his mind.

He found one of their standard dive bars and slunk inside, Gabriel a warm press against his legs. Sam had multiple fake IDs in his wallet, but the bartender took one look at his height and assumed he was old enough for the beer he bought.

Sam never liked the bar scene the way Dean did; alcohol just made his head hurt and the casual macho demeanor of everyone that went to such places got old fast when you spent all your time on the road with John and Dean. He briefly wondered if people in California bars were much different, but was quickly distracted from his thoughts by Gabriel who was amusing himself by messing up someone's darts game.

However the unfortunate victim was more charmed than annoyed by Gabriel’s antics, even petting him and cooing compliments. “Uhm, it’s kinda a, take your cat on a road trip thing I’m doing?,” Sam said, nervous and embarrassed and wondering why he couldn’t have a quiet, unassuming familiar who just stayed outside like Cas.

“You should write a book about that,” the bartender said, and Sam had the unfortunate feeling that it was a serious suggestion. Gabriel, of course, preened under all the attention.

The evening practically flew by; Gabriel had a witty comment to everything, making Sam burst out laughing at the most inappropriate of times - he swore the familiar timed it until he had a mouth full of beer. He played some pool too, for fun, not profit, and near the end of the night a cute blonde gave him her number, leading to giggly blushing on Sam’s part. He had to turn down the drink she bought for him because it was getting late, but it was still nice.

By the time he was walking back toward the motel, Gabriel a warm, heavy weight around his shoulders - _Walking is for people without servants_ \- , Sam had completely forgotten why he’d been upset with Dean in the first place. He stopped under one of the rare street lights to orient himself for a moment.

It was a good thing he hadn’t forgotten his hunting instincts - suddenly, a split-second after he’d stepped out of the way, there was a baseball bat where his head would have been if his body hadn’t acted on it’s own. Sam, still slightly tipsy from the beer, stared at it uncomprehendingly for about two seconds, before his eyes trailed up the bat and to the pretty blonde wielder of the bat.

“Should have just taken the drink, honey,” she said, attractive face drawn to a snarl.

Gabriel hissed and jumped off Sam’s shoulder, catching her in the face before she could swing a second time. Sam stared at them. He had a gun but he didn’t even know what creature this was - he’d rather not start shooting blindly on a street a corner away from civilization. His mind felt sluggish; usually he’d be casting a spell right about now but - he hadn’t tried any since he’d bonded with Gabriel and he wasn't sure how it'd turn out.

With a ferocious growl the woman threw Gabriel off, arms and face scratched to hell but whole enough to refocus her anger on Sam.

“Gabriel!,” he cried out, trying to catch sight of where the cat had been flung in the darkness.

 _Here,_ was the only warning Sam got before warmth and power and righteous fury flooded the bond, filling him with more strength than he’d ever held before. He didn’t have the presence of mind to form the spell into anything more than a blast of raw power - a golden, flashing light that threw the woman back.

Sam could feel himself sink to the ground, more exhausted than he could ever remember himself being. The woman, whatever she’d been, was dead, just like that. Nobody could just ... kill a monster like that, with raw energy. That's not how that worked; you'd need so much juice ...

Sam barely registered the cat curling up in his lap; he was too busy staring at the ground, where the energy still left over from the blast collected on the ground and left a field of blooming golden flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goldröschen (German): Kerria Japonica, a type of golden flower, literally: tiny golden roses
> 
> (the flowers usually grow on bushes but for this scene i was imagining just the blooms strewn about)

**Author's Note:**

> Goldschaum (German): fake goldleaf used for gilding, literally: gold foam


End file.
